Anonymously Yours
by too enigmatic 2 b urs
Summary: Sam was never the loud girl. She was a Goth who only had one outlet; writing (something she was apparently good at). Well, 'cause someone noticed and appointed her as part of the school's newspaper. Senior year was almost perfect. She was a writer. She was pining for Gregor, who was pining for Paulina-who was pining for Fenton. Fenton, that blue-eyed, black-haired walking magnet.
1. Prologue

**_Hey, everyone._**

**_This story is originally titled as Midnight Writer. It's identical to the first version with the exception of OC's and the dizzying switches from one character point of view to another. I've deleted the first version and am considering whether to delete the second one (MW Rewritten) too._**

**_Here's the latest, cleaner version. _**

**_As we all know it, Butch Hartman owns Danny Phantom. And we were (still are) all disappointed that they discontinued it. _**

* * *

_**PROLOGUE**_

Patience was definitely not Vlad Plasmius' best suit. Everybody knew that. It was evident when his two thick, black ghostly eyebrows furrowed hard as something materialized in front of him. His sadistic, frightening, red eyes narrowed fiercely as a stout bluish ghost appeared right before his being, trembling like a baby chick.

"Well?" He demanded, his rich voice reverberating in the solid walls of the dark castle.

The ghost flinched visibly. "Uh...Uhm.."

"Where?" Bellowed the vampire-featured ghost, his eyes turned to sharp slits as he threw a pink ray toward the pathetic ghost.

The azure fat ghost emitted an ear-shattering girly shriek as the beam almost hit him. His ghastly eyes widened in fear as he looked frantically to his master. He swallowed a large lump from his throat and began to speak.

"I..t-the b-box gh-" He started shakily, trying to amplify his voice as if attempting to fight off the wave of fright that was trying to eat him.

"I need the place!"

The box ghost started fidgeting again. "Uh...it's..."

"Where?" This time his master's ghostly arm was already stretched out, aiming directly at him. The box ghost panicked. His eyes darted back and forth and his floating body quaked harder and faster.

"A-Amity Park, sir!" He blurted out, his arms both raised up in defense, eyes closed in fright.

All of a sudden, his master's angry expression seemed to fade away. He let his arm fall back to his sides.

"Amity Park." The master echoed as his bloody red eyes lit up slyly. The box ghost couldn't figure out whatever he was thinking. All he knew was that he was safe from his master's punishment—for now.

"He's searching for him." The vampire-like ghost stated, the box ghost didn't know if his master was still talking to him or himself. "Craving for revenge." His master then let out a loud lunatic laugh that went bouncing off the walls of his freezing, almost deserted castle.

* * *

**_-The summary was about Sam and the prologue started off with Vlad. That reflects my unpredictability, I guess._**

**_-Is it better than the two previous versions or I only made it worse?_**

**_-Thanks._**

**_~T.E_**


	2. Chapter 1: The Disruption

**SAM**

A loud startling ring echoed throughout the large, dark and sullen room. There was a frightened feminine gasp followed by the minimum quaking of some high-tech equipment. A pale white hand with onyx black painted nails brought the receiver to a feminine ear.

"Hey, Sam." The voice from the other end of the line beamed, so bright it nearly lit up the entire room.

The girl, Sam scowled. Here comes that annoying voice again. She gritted her teeth and spoke in a harsh, dim reply that replaced the invisible glow the caller sent earlier. "This. Better. Be. Good."

She felt the sudden pause done by the irritating person. She almost smiled as she imagined the person she was talking to gaping as he realized his stupid mistake.

There was a muffled sound from the other end of the line. _He gulped_, she concluded.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled not making much conviction there.

Her brows scrunched together. "Save it." She spat out. "What's this non-sense, late call all about?"

"Whoa, sounds like you've had dinner with Paulina." The way he said it, it was as if he didn't just interrupt her in the middle of her night job.

She gathered up much oxygen in her lungs. This was getting longer than necessary. "Foley, what the heck is this about?"

There. Hope the calling-your-friend-by-his-last-name act would give him the hint that she meant business. No greetings, no sharing stories. Just the main exact reason for his late night inconvenience.

He cleared his throat. A silent apology. Good. It was really nice to know that he finally registered the situation.

"We have a new classmate."

The problem with Tucker was, he was a publicist. So that means, if there was ever a walking pile of profiles, it had to be Tucker. And mountain-top of other human beings' life stories wasn't exactly the type of news Sam needed in the middle of a busy night.

"Okay." She replied nonchalantly.

"What?" He paused. "What do you mean 'okay'?"

"Not interested." Sam paused. "As simple as that."

"B-but you need to, you have to!" He fumbled.

Okay…He was beginning to freak out and Sam felt the urge to end the conversation. She really didn't need this.

"Tuck." She called out calmly and cautiously.

"Sam, it's for your own safety. This guy has a rea-"

"Tuck, I know about that but I'm pretty sure that this new guy. Whoever and whatever he is, he won't discover a thing." She delivered slowly as if marking her own words.

He took a moment of silence, absorbing her reassurance.

"How could you be so sure?" His tone was light but there was the underlying tinge of doubt.

Thanks to her dear friend's question, Sam's stomach seemed to churn suddenly. Making her feel like the veggie salad she took for dinner was forcibly rushing back. It tasted like acid. _How could she be so sure about it?_ One boy couldn't possibly ruin it all, could he? **No,** she wouldn't let that happen. Never. Besides she was just a loser girl, invisible from the crowd. A commoner. A freak. There was no chance someone could mess it up. No, zero. And that was final.

"I've got it all covered up." The words left her mouth almost impossibly. "Tuck, I'm safe."

She was, right? Right.

"Okay." He finally surrendered.

"Okay" She echoed. "Bye Tuck."

She quickly hung up, afraid that he'd change his mind any minute. She then stared at the phone for a few moments, replaying the fresh conversation in her head. All she said was true, right? She was safe as far as she know. She had to be.

She sighed. She didn't even want to think about it. All was going acceptably fine. She didn't need more shit in her life. She already had so much of it.

Her deep thoughts were meddled by the sudden cold gust of wind that stung her arms. She tilted her head to the side and realized she still hadn't closed the window.

She stood up and walked toward the opened window. She was on the verge of closing it when she remembered something.

Earlier that night, she thought she saw something sped through the dark sky. A white streak, she thought. No, actually it wasn't a streak. It was- it looked like hair. A mass of humanish snowy, white hair and a black blob. It had to be some sort of a body because she noticed slender arms and a trunk...followed by a slim, black...tail. A tail?

Great, now she was seeing a human with white hair and black tail flying throughout the ebony night sky. And that was as close as to hearing voices around you.

Another sleep-deprived night and she was certain she would win the one-way ticket to the freaking mental hospital.

She let out a tired exasperation as the window clicked shut.

"I do really need to sleep." Sam said to no one. She was alone in her room. It didn't matter anyway.


	3. Chapter 2: Danny: The Disaster Driver

_**Somebody just favorited my newer version. Yey!**_

_**Thanks to FireyIceGirl. **__**:)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom.**_

* * *

_**Chapter 2:**__**Danny: The Disaster Driver**_

**S**leep-deprived was the most appropriate term to describe Sam's exhausted purple eyes. After she landed this job on **Spark**, the school's newspaper, she had never established an eight-hour night sleep again. Not that she regret it but being always up after midnight sucked up her energy, making her feel sleepy in every class. Especially Lancer's class. Her first period class. But that was later, she loved her secret job even though it was a mixture of sacrifice and struggle. The job itself fulfilled some deep inner passion (more popularly known as writing).

So here she was, actually and physically inside the school building at an early hour. Her raven hair was still wet from the shower but she was already inside the publication room, double checking her work. There were a few noises outside the room, maybe the students were arriving at this point. She glanced toward the door; thankfully she didn't forget to lock it. She then checked her watch. 6:45 a.m. Fifteen more minutes before classes start. She resumed examining every detail in her new chapter. And when she reached the bottom, she inserted her pen name. _**Midnight Writer**_.

Sometimes she thought her pseudoname sucked. A lousy, girly name. But then again, Sam Manson was a Goth so why would she care at all, right? Right. The pen name didn't matter, the only thing that mattered to her was to keep her identity classified. She didn't want to draw any attention from the public. She didn't need to. She just wanted to do whatever she loved to do.

Sam stood up and left the manuscript on the Editor-in-Chief's table. She then broke a gap between the door and the wall and peaked through it. Luckily, the hallway was empty. The kids must have dropped themselves to their rooms. She slid out of the room and went to her first subject class. And as what she always did everyday of the whole school year. Sam entered the room alone.

Truth be told, Mr. Lancer's class was boring. Sam couldn't help herself nodding off to sleep. The odd dream creatures kept taking her away from reality—which seemed to be the most wonderful thing right now.

"Class, I have an announcement..." She heard Lancer's old dull voice. But it sounded like he was in the Himalayas.

_Don't sleep, you'll get detention._

Was it Lancer again or another slight concerned being?

"A trans…blah blah student . . . from . . ."

_Open your eyes! Come on._

Okay . . . That wasn't Lancer, not a non-significant being also. That, was her. Was it subconscious or conscience? She couldn't remember.

". . .consin. . .absent . . " His voice was vanishing from Sam's hearing territory again. "or . . late!"

The sound of Lancer's voice raised a few octaves higher and was accompanied by a sharp slamming of some big object . . . or was it a gunshot? . . . Followed by loud and startled gasps of the students. Put it all on the same time and you'd get Sam's head bolting from the desk she had been lying on moments ago.

_What the heck is going on?_

Sam rubbed her eyes to get a better look at her surroundings. The whole class had that idiotically surprised faces and was all wide-eyed at something right in front of the room. She turned her gaze to the path they were all looking at and she instantly registered the feisty anger in Lancer's eyes. He was gritting his teeth so hard Sam could imagine them slicing through his mouth. The line of his body tightened and became raw. Sam saw the restrained hot fumes knocking inside Lancer's chest. He too was staring intently at something in front.

Finally, Sam let her eyes flew to the object they were all watching. Although instead of seeing someone bloodied by what she thought was a gunshot, she saw a boy standing in front and a poor wooden door vast opened. _So that was the noise,_ Sam concluded. Then she swung her thoughts back at the newly arrived boy. He had his hands hidden inside his black hoodie's front pockets. And he was looking at Lancer as if he was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. A moment of dead silence passed. Then Lancer spoke.

"I assume you are Mr. Fenton."

"Yeah," He huffed as he strutted down the middle of the room, giving Sam and the others a good angle at him.

Sam heard the kids started whispering and nudging each other. At the corner of her eye, she saw Lancer forcing himself to be calm and in control. She glanced at the new kid and noticed he was sporting faded blue jeans with a pair of old, dirty, almost worn out white sneakers. He had jet black hair that nearly veiled down his eyes that what to be looked like a shade of sky blue.

Mr. Lancer sighed heavily. "Well, Mr. Fenton, are you familiar with the word knock?"

The Fenton guy gave him a bored and smug look. He raised his nose higher than necessary. "Yeah, whatever."

"Where are you from, boy?" A male voice from the center of the room asked suddenly. Sam recognized it without even looking. Dash Baxter, quarterback. Big blond moron who only gets interested in salivating model-like girls and beating up the losers.

"Wisconsin, shithead." Shot back the Fenton guy casting Dash a mocking glance.

Gasps and oohhs hovered inside the room. Yes, this day was definitely going worse. Everybody knew facing Dash was like hitting yourself with a sledge hammer. Painful. Stupid, and a total waste of valuable time. Well, everybody, except this newbie.

Dash sat up straighter in his seat to make himself look bigger. "So freaks are like, allowed in Wisconsin?" Dash let a satisfied grin crossed his face.

Rich laughter followed closely by. Sam swore she saw the new kid's eyes flashed to glowing neon green. But it had gone rapidly. She spotted the bulging of his fists under his pockets. He was about to retort when Mr. Lancer interrupted.

"Language!"

Everyone turned to look at him and gave him the you're-a-killjoy-glare. Lancer pretended that he didn't notice anything and kept going.

"Mr. Fenton, kindly take that empty seat right beside Ms. Manson." Lancer pointed out his finger to the vacant chair lying just right beside Sam.

The whole class erupted in a loud guffaw. Resembling those of the vultures rejoicing over their pathetic victims. So . . . things were transforming way past the word worst.

"Perfect! You two could hook up and have shitty ugly kids!" Dash shouted that led to another wave of insulting laughter.

"Language!" Mr. Lancer screeched again. "Last warning, Mr. Baxter."

Sam ignored the last remnants of laughter and fascinated herself to the window on her left. Fenton, on the other hand began tracing his steps toward the unoccupied seat next to her.

"I'll keep an eye on you Mr. Fenton, I want you to know that that kind of attitude isn't allowed in Casper high." Lancer stated as Fenton walked.

"Sure. . ." He mumbled. "Old man."

He dropped himself to the chair beside Sam. Propped up his chin with one hand, and zoned off.

* * *

Sam was attempting every probable way to ignore her new seatmate. She had tried gazing out the window, mesmerizing herself with the floor, doodling things on her plastic desk, turning her back on him, _but_ nothing was working. She was feeling more and more awkward with every second while her friend-by-her-side was comfortably zoning off. How insane was to be bothered by someone who hadn't done anything to you?

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught an example of high-school-slut-picking-up-a-supposed-to-be-hottie. Her blood curdled. Those types of acts were one of the reasons why adults' thoughts of teenagers turned from trustworthy to slutworthy. It was insulting for the fact that she never had a boyfriend. Not that she was looking for one anyway. She didn't need it. She had a full plate on her life so she didn't need another problem.

And there they were. The major stars of their own little film. Paulina Sanchez, the beautiful Latina A.K.A the queen bee of this school. Who had a pea size lump in her head as her brain. And was also a cheerleader. But that wasn't the reason Sam hated her. It was because of Paulina's obsession to color pink and her empowering bitchy attitude. Not to mention her magical ability to catch every guy's eye and heart. Even Gregor's—which was truly depressing considering the fact that he was a smart guy. Only not that bright enough to identify Paulina as a brain-damaged doll.

And newsflash! There she was again, preying on her newly arrived victim. It seemed that the girl's long, perfectly manicured claws were already grasping its prey by the neck. She watched as Paulina threw a note to this Fenton's desk and how sickeningly she winked at him. Eeww.

Okay_,__this was getting really irritating._Sam thought as she watched the to-be-couple. Seriously, how could a girl like Paulina, an abrasive mistress of the pink lip gloss who had a nice body but empty brains could instantly slither her way to every guy's damned gut? It was worse than a magic, it was a curse. Why did the world allowed creatures like her to live and be on top of the food chain? It was very, very unfair.

Through her peripheral vision, Sam saw the Fenton guy stared at the note. He looked surprised for a moment but he appeared to have made up his mind and opened the folded paper. Sam waited.

Suddenly, the Fenton guy let out a rich, insulting laughter. The class was stupefied as they watched him hysterically clutching his stomach. Mr. Lancer's eyes twitched hazardously as trudged his way toward him.

"Do you find anything hilarious about the _Inferno_, Mr. Fenton?" The out-of-shaped teacher questioned with one perfectly arched brow.

"No," He said trying to swallow down the remnants of his outburst and swiftly crumpling the note in his hands.

"Well, is there anything humorous in this room?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah, there is." He stated straightening up on his seat. There wasn't any trace of sudden happiness written on his face. But his eyes were shimmering with dark amusement.

"Really, Mr. Fenton?" Lancer crossed his large arms over his chest. "Will you _kindly_ share it to us?"

"It _is_ you."

Sam shrugged her head in disbelief. This guy was definitely asking for trouble. Serious trouble.

"Me?" Lancer was nearing the zero level of patience.

"Yeah, you're hilarious. You're an out-of-shaped, bald, annoying teacher."

The room went dead with the new guy's answer. The class grew in anticipation as they waited for inevitable words from Lancer's mouth.

"Detention, Mr. Fenton. Now!" Lancer bellowed in rage.

Fenton guy happily grabbed his backpack and dashed out of the room with lightning speed.

Sam shook her head in disbelief. Great, a new addition to the school's jerk collection.

* * *

With third period done and half of the population of the student body probably had a copy of Spark, Sam slowly trudged the hallways. She went for the longer route to her next class, choosing to eavesdrop on what her readers think of her latest chapter.

She carefully dodged Tim, a lanky, skateboarding kid who stormed to her left. She jumped to her right and sighed. With her head up in the clouds, she slammed to a wall.

Due to her ever-present clumsiness and the constant lack of sleep, she fell on her butt. She quickly got up and hitched back her bag on her shoulder. She looked up to check the wall and was startled to see the Fenton guy staring at her.

Was that him? Man, the guy was a walking slab of marble. She stared as she waited for him to snap at her and noticed his eyes. They were a shade of deeper sky blue, resembling ice. She watched as the light transformed his eyes. Sky blue to ice blue to almost gray.

She realized that she was practically ogling at him and quickly looked down on her feet as she mumbled, "Sorry."

It took him a second to digest what she said and she glanced back to see if he heard her. He started to open his mouth and hesitated. Then he smiled.

Damn, long lashes, ever-changing blue eyes and dimples. The combination most girls fall for. Well, not Sam. No. She was definitely not attracted. Uhm, okay, maybe she thought him better looking than most guys in Casper High.

"It's okay. I-I'm okay." His smile brightened and he offered his hand. "I'm Danny, by the way." The other hand went up the back of his neck to scratch it.

Sam guessed it was a telltale sign of his emotions. Probably feeling stupid and awkward. Sam could relate to that. She was feeling the same thing. She stared at his hand, really? Do people still do handshakes?

She mentally kicked herself for prolonging the awkwardness and grabbed his hand. She gave it a nice, fast shake. "Sam." She hesitated but decided to include it anyway. "Sam Manson."


	4. Chapter 3: A Typical Paulina-girl

_**Chapter 3: A Typical Paulina-girl**_

"Pleased to meet you, _Sam._" He acknowledged with another smile. Her name rolling off his lips that left a liquid feeling in her stomach.

"Uh...yeah. Right. I mean, okay." Sam replied. _God,_ for someone who was supposed to be so talented with words, she sure was proving how much of an idiot she really was. Thus, she was also deeply disturbed with his weird behavior, and _hers_. She kept shifting her weight and wasn't anywhere looking at him.

That was when she caught sight of a rolled copy of Spark sprawled on the floor. "Hey," She murmured and dropped to pick up the paper. "Uh. . .here." She said handing the still-rolled and almost-crumpled newspaper to him.

Fenton guy's eyes dawned with realization. He snatched it from her hand, unintentionally brushing his skin to hers. Sam blinked as she tried to hide her surprise. Blue eyed, dimpled and cold.

"Thanks." He tucked it under his arm and made his way past her. He walked briskly, leaving her dumbfounded.

Was that what supposed to happen after the bump and introduction between opposite sex? For a writer, she had no idea.

* * *

"Sam?" A voice from her ear whispered, flashing her back to reality.

"Huh?" She whipped her head in an instant and came face-to-face with a happy Tucker.

Sam felt light-headed, must be for the quick turning. She adjusted herself, getting ready for the Tucker Time. "I didn't see you coming." She attempted to cover her embarrassment.

"Yeah, cause you were so busy staring at someone."

"Who was that anyway?" He questioned looking more intrigued than when he asked her about the girls who checked him out. "The crush?" His face lit up with a teasing knowledge. Something only he and Sam knew about.

Sam snorted in disbelief. "What's up?" She asked trying to steer the conversation. Tucker noticed it but didn't argue anyway. Prying on Sam's personal life was like entering the horror house. Well, almost literally.

"They liked it!" Tucker declared spreading his arms upward as if he just won the lottery. Sam gave in to a real curious smile. But let her guard on.

"The girls are chatting about it and they are into _it_..." Tucker clutched both of Sam's shoulders and shook her lightly. "I'm telling you Sam, you're the bomb!"

Sam's amethyst eyes widened as she hit Tucker on the shoulder, immediately shutting him up. Then she instinctively looked around for possible eavesdroppers. Most of the students had dove to their classrooms and the hallway was almost empty. Maybe there were a few hanging around but evidently and luckily, they weren't anywhere near them.

She double checked their surroundings in case she had it wrong.

Tucker groaned.

She stared him down with a brow shot up. "How many times I've told you to-"

"Okay, I'm sorry."

She yanked Tucker by the arm and dragged him to the nearest, safest area, the publication room. She cracked the door open and both of them slid in then she pushed him down hard to a plastic chair that he almost fell from. Sam crossed her arms over her chest, tapped one combat boot on the floor and hissed. "Alright, we're alone now, spit it all out. In. a. Low. Voice."

"Sorry, I just got over excited with all the feedback. I didn't mean to-"

"Yeah, fine, you got over excited, for the hundredth time. It's okay with me. No big deal." She cut in sarcastically.

Tucker opened his mouth to defend himself then closed it again. Arguing with Sam wasn't the good way to go when you were about to drop some true good news. He emitted a surrendering sigh and tried to regain his composure. He sat up straighter on his seat. "I have good news and bad news."

"Can't think of anything tackier than that?" Another brilliant roll from Sam's purple eyes, ladies and gentlemen.

"No, besides it sort of a really fun thing to say." He paused. "So, what do you prefer to hear first?"

Sam let out her breath."Bad one."

Tucker cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. He put up a half-bad imitation of a news anchor delivering tonight's news. "According to the jocks, their chicks wouldn't shut up about some_'cheesy'_fantasy love story they read on the school's paper." He made air quotations as he said the word _cheesy_.

"Right." Sam agreed. "I knew from the start that boys would never like such things in this world." She added, "And Jocks? I doubt that they even read the paper. Or _if_ they _can._"

"Come on, Sam. Don't underestimate _us_. Males are just head set about more important things in life." He then huffed, "Men, like me are kind of get-real type."

"Yeah, right. You really are getting real right now. Insanely fictional real."

"Yeah, think whatever you want, Sam. Someday you'll learn to accept the fact that males are dominammpff"

There was a muffled noise and Sam quickly hushed Tucker off. She pressed his mouth with her bag. She gestured him to listen closely. And they both went to press their ears on the wall. Shortly after that, another small cautious sound rang throughout the walls of the hallway. And it was clear that there was still someone else near, besides them.

"Did you hear that?" Tucker asked Sam in a mixture of confusion, aghast and a little bit of excitement.

"No." Answered Sam. "I thought it was just someone clashing to the wall." She added dryly.

Tucker sniggered loudly. Sometimes he liked beautiful and sexy girls, like Hispanic Paulina or blonde Star. But a lot of times, he also resented them for being so freaking unpredictable. Like Sam.

"Well?"

"Huh?" Sam had just pulled out Tucker from his thoughts. "What 'Well'?"

Sam let out an irritated exasperation. "Are you just going to stand there and let your imagination run wild or you're coming with me to check _that_ out?" She jerked her thumb backward, gesturing to the door behind her.

Tucker hesitated for a second, and then grabbed his backpack. PDA ready in one hand. But Sam, on the other hand had prepared herself and was already out the door before he had the chance to warn her.

"Sam! Wait!" He tried to call out but all he got was a door slamming shut.

Sam snuck out the door and her jaw hit the floor.

Something was floating right in the corridor.

Sadly, it didn't look like a trick. She couldn't see any wires attach to it (whatever _it_ was) or any cameras, if this was ever some lame TV show's prank. The thing turned to her.

It looked human. It was wearing a white suit with a black tie and black belt, topped off with a black brim hat, holding cuffs and … was that a bat or a stick? It had pale, chalky white skin with beady, hunting-eyes and a _holy shit, _was that a _tail_? Was this how ghosts look? They actually had clothes? Business suits? Not bloody, torn clothes and axes sticking out their backs?

"Catch me if you can!" Another voice taunted from the other end of the hallway. Sam and the hovering thing both whipped their heads to look at the owner of the voice but he was too fast. All Sam saw was a blur of black and white zooming to the corner and it disappeared. She checked her companion but it was also gone.

Sam released the breath she didn't know she was holding. She braced herself on the wall for support and leaned back. She stared up and slid down.

The door to the publication room finally opened. Tucker jumped out with a worried expression as his head swung right and left, searching for her. She croaked. He looked down and crouched beside her.

"Sam? Sam? Are you alright? What happened?"

Sam gazed at Tucker perhaps a bit too long, wondering if she would sound like a lunatic if she went for the truth. "I have no idea."

* * *

_**A/N:** Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I thought I've posted this chapter some time ago, turned out I didn't. I must've been pretty sleepy that time. Anyway, as an apology, this is a one-time, two-chapter update. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_~T.E_


	5. Chapter 4: Of Ghosts and Guys

**Chapter 4: Of Ghosts and Guys**

Search for definition:

G-H-O-S-T

Definitions: GHOST

_Noun_

1: the seat of life or intelligence : _soul_

give up the _ghost_

2: a disembodied soul; _especially_: the soul of a dead person believed to be an inhabitant of the unseen world or to appear to the living in bodily likeness

3: spirit, demon

Examples:

-a house haunted by a ghost

-ghost of a chance

Ghosts are—

"Aaagghh!" Sam threw a pillow to her laptop. Impatience getting the best out of her. She was searching the Internet for any significant information about ghosts. Actually, she was just snooping if Amity Park was mentioned in any ghost citing blog or write up or even in a shooting for a movie or at least _somewhere in a something._ She was up for hours, scanning every nook and cranny of various online databases.

Yet, she was nowhere near the scrap of data she was looking for.

Ghosts weren't real, right?

But what was she supposed to think after the freak incident in the hallway today? Nobody appeared to have any knowledge of it. Aside from her, and Tucker, who by the way saw nothing at all because he was on the other side of the wall during the short time it happened. Whatever _it_ was.

Time for a distraction. Homework. She had a lot of that. But like any other student, she was too lazy to do it. Work, then. Time for work. She closed her internet browser and opened the MW folder. She clicked on her latest, published chapter and examined it. Hmm, not bad for a prologue. She closed the prologue file and went to open the file for the first and second chapter.

After reading the second chapter, she proceeded in writing the next one. Due to the recent events in the school, she was thinking of incorporating ghosts in her fantasy story.

Sam began typing the rest of her story. Her fingers danced on the keyboard with a rhythm only she knew.

_She ran. It was the last life-preserving instinct she had. Her pursuer must have heard her move. She sensed him trailing behind her. She swallowed a mouthful of air and pushed her limbs to go faster. The leaves rustled behind her. Fifteen feet away! There was a way out, she could feel it. She could see it. Her heart thundered in her chest. She was getting closer. Just a moment... she jumped quickly under a canopy of trees. _

_And everything shifted._

_The dense forest became a wall of protection around her. The thick trunks grew closer to each other as it started to encircle her in a nature cage. The branches reached out overhead to shield the girl. She trembled. The sky, she couldn't see the sky anymore. She crouched as the light slowly faded away. Her breathing became even more ragged. What in the world was happening? This was supposed to be a way out. Everything was enveloped in darkness. Her bare feet skimmed the rocky patches of the earth. Her toes curled, it was cold. The cold was seeping into her skin._

... The cold was seeping into her skin.

Sam's eyes popped open. A shadow was hovering in her room. Staring at her, Sam froze. She blinked and the shadow was gone. What in the world just happened? She sat up and realized she had fallen asleep half way through writing. She glanced at her work and groaned. She hadn't even reached the minimum number of words per chapter. She checked the time, it was past three A.M.

Sam quickly debated whether to continue writing or just go back to sleeping. No, she couldn't concentrate after seeing that thing. She sighed, saved her work and shut down her laptop, then she grabbed a copy of her favorite vampire series. She reclined back on the bed and started reading. She hadn't even finished at least five pages when her eyelids drooped.

_Sam realized she was not in her room anymore. She looked around._

_There was boy her age, strapped to a stainless gurney. He was unconscious. He was half lying on his side,with his back to her but she could very well see that he was naked. Sam would have looked away that instant she realized he was not decent but something pulled at her gaze. Maybe it was due to how deathly pale his skin appeared to be, or maybe it was for the fact that it was... glowing. _

_On the top of the gurney where his head was supposed to be was a silver, round object, resembling a helmet of some kind. She couldn't see his head, much less his face. The boy stirred as if he was waking up. His head turned slowly to the side. She anticipated, on edge, curious as to see his face. He was moving and the first thing Sam saw was white. Snowy white streaks._

The blast of her alarm jolted Sam awake. Okay, she really needed to work on her sleeping schedule. Not to mention she also needed to learn how to stop those weird dreams that kept plaguing her slumber.

Sam yawned as she dragged her sleep-fogged self out of the bed and into the bathroom.

* * *

Sam was trudging the road to her school when an unexpected someone called her. She looked back and her heart skipped a beat. Tall, lean, white-haired and green-eyed gorgeous Gregor was parading down the streets of Amity Park like a guy straight out from a Calvin Klein billboard, beaming at her. Sam silently sent a prayer of thanks to some Divine Power Up There. Mornings like this should be recorded and preserved to last an eternity.

"Hey, Sam!" Gregor greeted as he reached her. He playfully patted her shoulder as if they were friends for a lifetime. Sam smiled shyly back.

"H-hey." She stuttered and blushed.

Of course Gregor saw this and he grinned even more. He kept close to her as they walked to school. He always did that, invade the other person's personal space but Sam never minded. He smelled of an expensive, manly perfume. She never liked strong odors but she always made an exception to Gregor. Heck, he could probably be all sweaty and Sam still wouldn't mind.

"So, why are you going to school so early?" Gregor started and glanced at her with a curious gleam in his face.

_Crap._ Sam quickly looked away. She hated lying to him but it was part of the deal. As much as she liked him, Gregor was cool and popular but he couldn't keep his mouth shut even if it would save his life.

"Uhm, you know, just homework." She clutched the strap of her bag tighter.

Gregor chuckled. "Homework? What's it about? Maybe I can help."

_Oh, no_. Sam let out a nervous chuckle of her own. "Uh, I don't think you could. No offense but it's kind of a… uh—"

"Sam!"

Both Sam and Gregor swiveled their heads to look at the newcomer. It was Tucker Foley in his usual get up, PDA in hand. Sam only then realized that they had arrived at school. Time did fly whenever she was with Gregor.

"So, you've brought that Ipad of yours, right? I figured that maybe it's the processor that's having problems. It's already quad-core, right? You didn't download anything suspicious from the Internet. I'm thinking about the Trojan worm infecting your data." Tucker spoke so fast but Sam didn't understand a word he said. He was staring at her with an anxious edge in his eyes. He broke eye contact and acted that he'd just seen Gregor, as if he wasn't there earlier. "Oh, hey, Greco! My friend." Tucker grinned and patted Gregor on the back.

Gregor's attractive eyes flashed but he pasted a smile on his face. "It's Gregor." He backpedaled away from Tucker as though he had the plague and was about to enter the school when he remembered Sam. He glanced at her and winked. "Later, Sam." And disappeared as he went in.

Sam watched open mouthed at the exchange. She turned to Tucker and shoved him back.

"Hey!" Tucker stumbled a few steps back.

"Why did you do that?" She hissed.

"What? I'm just saving your cute little ass, Sam. You're welcome." Tucker grumbled.

Sam huffed. "Leave my ass alone. It's not cute and it doesn't need any saving. But did you always have to be a jerk when he's around?"

Tucker shrugged and tapped on his PDA, avoiding Sam's gaze. "What's for lunch today, huh?"

Sam shot him a look.

Tucker sighed and dropped the act. He pocketed his PDA. "Let's just get inside." He entered the school, leaving her to follow.

Sam sighed in frustration. Whenever Gregor was around, Tucker acted like an ass. Whenever he wasn't, Tucker would tease her about him. Really, Foley was giving her a whiplash with all his mood swings.

Sam was about to climb the steps of Casper high when a gust of wind blew. She stopped to check out the sky. It was dark. It didn't looked like it was going to rain but it appeared like it was suddenly covered with a purple mist. The wall beside the door cracked and out emerged a familiar thing.

Sam froze. It was the same floating thing yesterday. It had the same square jaw and sharp eyes, wearing the same white suit with black tie and belt. He or _it_ was wearing a black rim hat and was staring at her as if she was under a microscope. Then its gaze scanned the lot behind her. Sam wanted to turn and look if there was something behind her but she couldn't. She was too puzzled, and okay, she was too mortified to move.

It didn't appear to have found whatever it was looking for. It took one look at her and disappeared with the opening it came from. Sam stared another full minute then breathed a sigh of relief she wasn't aware she was holding.

"You okay?"

Only to gasp again as she jumped away from the voice who spoke to her. She turned her head and almost got a heart attack when she realized she wasn't alone. The new guy was right beside her, his face creased with worry.

Sam tried to calm her thundering heart. "Y-yes." She finally managed to say and blushed. Seriously what was with her and blushing a lot today? And yes, what was it with guys consecutively invading her morning?

The new guy, with his deep blue eyes and jet-black hair was still looking at her as if he was trying to figure out something. Sam realized that he was not convinced. She was about to say some lie when he blinked and all the emotion from his eyes vanished. As if he just pulled the shutters down.

"Okay." He said and took a step back, suddenly conscious of his proximity to her. He turned and began to trudge up the steps. Sam watched him walked and grabbed the latch. But he paused to look back at her, raising his brows. Unlike Gregor, he didn't wink at her. Unlike Gregor, he didn't offer to help her with homework. And unlike Gregor, he wasn't about to leave her standing like an idiot.

Sam knew it was too early to be categorizing guys base solely on the pedestal she put Gregor on. But it was also not too late to change her predicament. The new guy was still waiting for her right at the entrance of Casper High. Sam sighed and tried to dismiss the fact that she was over analyzing this.

After all, Gregor was not this guy and this guy was not Gregor, this guy was in fact, Fenton.

Sam finally moved and hurried up to follow him through the door. For the first time in history, when Sam entered the school, she wasn't alone.

She was with Fenton.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks to: **No-one, guest (sammansonreplica), IceQueenandFireQueen, The Punch Lord, DFDPGZ14, OrangeSunset1701, DPFAN4EVER, Amethyste Noire, guest** and **Thedarkgirl1121 **for reviewing in the previous chapters and also to the people who followed/ favorited Anonymously Yours. Thank you :)_

_*Sorry for the long wait._

_~T.E_


	6. Chapter 5: Common Courtesy

**Chapter 5**

"Hey, Sam. Need a hand on those?" Gregor appeared beside Sam's desk and motioned to the stack of books in front of her. Sam almost jumped from her seat. Her eyes drinking up the sight of Gregor and the smile he was offering her. She almost sighed. Her hyperactive imagination began picturing Gregor as her boyfriend; walking her to school in the morning, their hands intertwined, carrying her books for her after each class, waiting for her at the cafeteria to eat lunch together, and of course, sending her home every afternoon; the golden, orange rays of the sun shining on her hair and Gregor gazing at her lovingly as he admits that she's the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Gregor chuckled, that melodic laughter ringing in Sam's ears. Sam blinked when she realized she was the cause of it. He stopped chuckling to give her another heart-skipping smile. His green eyes looked thoroughly amused. "See something you like?"

Sam was taken aback for the second. Was it just her or Gregor sounded almost smug? She dismissed this thought as she racked her brain for a witty comeback but she didn't come up with any that would not get her sued. Gregor, still grinning, was absentmindedly drawing circles on the edge of her plastic desk. Sam glanced at it and wondered how those long fingers would feel on her skin. "I'm just kidding, Sam." Gregor stopped moving his fingers and dropped his smile. His eyes looked at her in concern. "Seriously, Sam, What's up with you today? You seem off than usual. Is something bothering you?"

Sam was tempted to say, _yes,_ _actually, it's your face, _but she decided against it because he would probably take it as one of her sarcastic replies and would either be offended that he would never come near her again or be humored as if just by looking at her was very funny for him. "I'm fine." And she immediately broke out into a smile. Then immediately wondered if there was anything stuck in between her teeth. Yes, she was overly conscious when Gregor was around. She couldn't help it. He was so perfect in her eyes that she always have the disturbing feeling of trying to be worthy of him.

Gregor scrunched his bushy brows, planted both hands on the sides of her desk, careful not to knock the stack of books, and leaned down, scrutinizing her face dead on. His pinkish, thin lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes stared straight at hers, digging through the amethyst depths. Sam felt a shiver ran down her spine. She didn't feel warm, she surprisingly felt cold, like a bucket of ice water was poured on her back. "Hmmm, you don't look like you're fine." Gregor continued to lock his gaze on her.

Really, what could Gregor find so interesting on her face? He was making her very uncomfortable. Sam glanced around to break the intimate staring. She couldn't continue looking at his eyes. She was afraid that he would find answers and learn her secret just by gazing at her. Her eyes caught movement on her right, just behind Gregor and she saw that Star, the blonde cheerleader, who was Paulina's sidekick, was watching and glaring daggers at her. Sam wondered where Paulina could be, she half wished Paulina would suddenly appear and take Gregor away.

Sam turned her eyes back on Gregor, who was still studying her face like it was a book he was trying to memorize. Sam thought of something to say, anything actually, just to get him out of her face. "Um…" _Oh God, very brilliant, Sam_. Her mind chided.

Gregor chewed the inside of his cheek, cleared his throat and declared. "Sam, I believe you need a twelve-hour sleep. I recommend not plugging your computer tonight or avoiding that favorite book of yours when you get home." And he thankfully straightened. Sam almost sighed in relief.

"Is that your synopsis, Dr. Gregor?" Paulina purred, heavy with her Latina accent as she wrapped a slender hand on Gregor's arm and ground shamelessly her body against his.

Sam thought of her wish earlier and wanted to take it back. She would have blushed about avoiding her favorite book Gregor mentioned. She felt special that he knew she loved to read, however, thanks to Paulina she probably now sounded more of the book freak than they thought she was.

Someone chuckled on Sam's right and she briefly forgot about her mental complaints as she turned to look. Gregor and Paulina did the same as they all threw a questioning glance to whoever it was. She was startled to see the new guy standing behind his chair. Apparently he heard (if he wasn't intentionally listening) their conversation. He swung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. "You mean diagnosis." He corrected and glanced at the three of them with amused eyes. His gaze briefly swept over Paulina (_with Sam presumed as disgust_), then to Gregor where Sam saw a flash of something, like an alternation of his eyes from blue to green, then to Sam. His eyes rested on hers for a while longer.

He then gave her a hint of a smile and trudged out of the room. Sam was rendered speechless. Did he just do what she thought he just did? Sam watched as Paulina looked at the new guy's back with regret instead of hate or disgust as Sam predicted. Paulina must have sensed that Sam was staring at her because she shifted her weight and scoffed at Sam's direction. She narrowed her eyes at Sam and dragged Gregor toward the door.

"Greggg…" She whined, "Let's go, I'm hungry!" Paulina sighed and pouted. Sam had to restrain herself from gagging right then and there. She never figured why girls tend to pucker their lips like ducks when they wanted something from guys. Gregor, a victim on the said guys department, didn't even struggle as he let Paulina hauled him out. Sam caught a glimpse of Gregor's face looking utterly distracted. She didn't know why but something nagged at her that the look on his face must meant something important. But on second thought, Gregor might have just been making a constipated face because of Paulina's persistence.

Sam didn't know if she should feel disappointed that Gregor forgot about her or mad that Paulina took him away or happy because the new guy just cracked Paulina's overconfident skyscraper of an ego.

Either way, she should be glad that someone in this school didn't think Paulina was a gift to men. It was enough to lighten up her mood.

Sam glanced back at her desk and sighed. No, actually, it wasn't enough to lift her spirits up. The stack of books was still sitting on her desk and Gregor wasn't around anymore to help her, not that she relied on him but boy, he did offer and she should've took him up on it.

* * *

By the time lunch period ended, Sam's head was pounding. It felt like someone was drilling a hole in her temples and she was nauseous. She didn't get the chance to eat lunch or even go to the cafeteria because she used her break to slip in the publication room and finish the chapter she was working on last night.

When she was done printing the copy of today's chapter, she snuck out of the publication room and made sure no one noticed her. She was planning to go straight to her next class when she felt her stomach flipped. She ran to the nearest wash room, dove to the farthest cubicle, slammed the door shut and retched. Her stomach heaved for another two minutes before she finally felt the head ache receded to a dull throb. She went out of the cubicle, thank goodness the bathroom was empty, and then rinsed her mouth and face. She tried to catch her breath as she leaned on the sink for support, wincing at her reflection.

Ugh, Gregor stared at this … this face? Her hair was matted; it looked like it was never introduced to a comb. Her eyes were blood shot, with large, dark circles underneath them. Her face oily and her lips chapped; despite the purple lipstick she applied this morning. She was also frighteningly pale, almost as pale as the creature she saw in this school.

Sam froze. What if that thing stays in the school? What if there were others? Floating, nearly transparent beings in the classrooms, the hallways, or worse, in the bathroom? Sam felt her hand shook but she blamed it to her starvation and lack of sleep. Seriously, she was only writing for the newspaper not taking on the job of her life, why was she doing this to herself? If she couldn't get at least a five hour sleep, she should at least eat more or those stories would be similar to that book where it ended in the middle of a sentence because the character died. Just like her life would be if she didn't stop this suicide routine.

Sam sighed, lack of food and sleep were already messing with her mind. She was being melodramatic about this and she was developing paranoia about ghosts. She grabbed her bag from the counter and rummaged through it, grasping around for her purple lipstick. She could go without caking her face in foundation but never without her favorite, signature purple lipstick. Her hands dug in her bag, sifting through her laptop, pens, crumpled papers, binder, journal, an umbrella, a tumbler, she reached deeper and finally got a grip on the tiny, metallic tube. She pulled it out, uncapped and twisted it, and was about to swipe it on her lips when her hand stiffened and her eyes bulged.

The door of the middle cubicle swung open and out came a tumbling person. Literally. Sam watched as the knot of black limbs and arms rolled to the side and flattened itself on the floor, panting. The person lied on his stomach and that was when Sam realized the black was actually his form of clothing, stuck to his body like second skin. Sam swiveled her head from the mirror to check behind her, just to make sure this was real. It was.

The guy, she could tell from his built and his hair (his hair that was snowy white and his black suit that she now labeled as spandex), was getting up. He pushed himself off the ground and raised his head to look around his surroundings. The first thing he saw was Sam. Their eyes met and Sam fought hard not to react. She was a Goth, for Pete's sake! She didn't do screaming and running for her life.

However, her breath was caught in her throat because as soon as she saw his eyes, which was a pair of glowing green, she knew that this was beyond her. The guy froze as well; he was taken aback by her presence. He was probably not expecting someone in this room at this hour. They held each other's gazes for another ten seconds. The guy looked like he was racking his brain for something to say while Sam deliberated how to escape. The guy seemed to finally gather his thoughts. He stood fully, reminding her of someone's height. He dusted off himself and offered his right hand at her. Sam noted he was wearing white gloves, further observation concluded that he was indeed wearing a black spandex suit, with white belt and boots. He was mostly black and white except for the eyes.

"Hi?" He spoke uncertainly and Sam noted the deep timbre of his voice, which she also found familiar. He took a small step toward her and Sam automatically took a step back. The guy swiftly moved backward, so graceful his limb was a blur and when Sam checked, he was a few feet farther than her. "I-I'm Da- I mean, Phantom. _Phantom_" He corrected himself and looked at her sheepishly; his hand was still out in front of him.

Sam had no idea what to make of this situation. He, as far as she knew, rolled out of that cubicle and was now offering his hand as if they just met in a ball or something. For all she knew, he was there the whole time and was spying on her as she what? Puke her breakfast out?

Sam clutched her lipstick in her fist as she fumbled for something to say. It looked like there was no other way but to introduce herself too because he already did. Although asking him what the heck he was doing in a cubicle in the girls' wash room seemed more important, Sam opted to follow his lead and start with their names. "Uh, I'm Sam."

"I know."

"You do?"

The guy, who said he was Phantom, widened his eyes as if he just made a mistake. He panicked and took three strides and before Sam could blink, he was right in front of her, shaking her hand that was clutching the lipstick and nodding, "I mean, pleased to meet you." His other gloved hand rose to scratch the back of his neck. Sam shivered; small tendrils of electric currents ran through her hand.

His proximity, especially his hand, brought a spark and coldness that she never experienced before. Even in September, the heat was still sweltering but it faded when he came near, as if he brought winter just by being within a few feet from Sam.

He let go of her hand as soon as took notice of her shivering form. He stepped back and apologized. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to make you freeze. The cold shouldn't have bothered you with this heat but –" He caught himself rambling, stopped and smiled awkwardly. Sam would have thought it was adorable if not for the fact that he just mentioned…

"Did you say—what? How?"

Phantom guy seemed to catch on to what she was referring to even though she barely got out a sensible word. "Uhm, you know, me being cold because of, er, what I am."

Sam frowned and her eyes narrowed. "And you're?"

"A ghost?" Phantom asked like he wasn't sure himself.

"A ghost?" Sam repeated, feeling ridiculous.

He sighed. "Yeah, you know, dead." He drew a line across his throat like he was trying to communicate with a language barrier. He waited for Sam's reaction. He didn't get any.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You should be scared right now. Terrified, even." His face was still a picture of hope; hope that Sam was terrified to her wits.

"Really?" Sam asked again and she felt utterly stupid. The guy was admitting he was a ghost and was dead but she was still verifying this information even though she could perfectly see the signs for herself: the speed, the blur, the outfit (okay, the outfit would seem out of place even if he was alive), the snowy white hair, honestly who could have hair like that? _Well, aside from Gregor but, never mind…_ It looked impeccable and went really well with his eyes, his glowing green eyes. Oh God, was she actually finding this supposed to be ghost guy attractive?

"Yeah." The Phantom guy was watching her with worry evident on his face. "Like screaming at the top of your lungs and running for the hills terrified." He tilted his head to the side and tried to figure her out.

"No kidding." Sam replied. As soon as the words were out she wanted to slap herself with a chair, how could she be like this?

Phantom sighed. He probably thought she was nuts or just mentally challenged. He decided to change the topic instead. "Don't you have class?"

"Oh, shit." Sam zipped her bag shut and slung it on her shoulder. She was about to run but in order for her to get out, she would have to passed by him. He didn't miss a beat and simply turned his body sideways to give her enough room to pass. Sam took one last glance at him and dashed out of the bath room.

* * *

"What would you do if you encounter a ghost?"

Sam was met by a brief silence from the other end of the line. It was past ten in the evening and she and Tucker were doing their respective works from their own rooms and talking on the phone. The silence stretched and Sam knew Tucker stopped typing long enough to make her worry. "Tucker?"Sam retrieved the phone from between her ear and shoulder and glanced at it, just to make sure the line wasn't dead. It wasn't and she put it back on her ear as she heard him spoke.

"That's a tough one. Where and why would I encounter this ghost?" Tucker inquired and Sam hesitated. Should she tell him the truth or fabricate a situation? She decided to go for the truth. This was Tucker, anyway.

"Bathroom. Like at the school's bathroom. After you just threw up and was attempting to fix yourself and you thought you were alone, suddenly there's this guy or in your case, a girl rolling out of one of the cubicles and introducing him—I mean herself to you and saying she's uh, a ghost?"

She was met by another round of silence. She was beginning to think Tucker was trying to hide his laughter or doing something she didn't want to know. Tucker chuckled. "Cool. Not only your princess is a runaway in the forest, she meets a ghost in the bathroom too? It's a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

Sam kept silent, what princess? And then it hit her. Tucker was treating it as a scene brainstorm. He thought she was having a crazy idea attack and this was all part of her being the anonymous story writer. He thought that she was asking him for his opinion. Sam didn't know if she should feel relieved or worried about this. "Come on, just give me an answer." She prodded, hoping that he'd stop asking questions.

"I have no idea. Maybe make a fit out of it? Scream at the top your lungs and run for the hills thing?"

Oh, God, no. Sam would have passed out if she wasn't already in bed. Was that really the first thing people would do if they see a ghost? Apparently, yes. Even the ghost himself suggested it. She couldn't help but ask, "That's all?"

"Well, yeah. What would _you_ do?"

Sam paused. Did Tucker really want to know? Perhaps he did because he sounded like there was no other way around it. Sam took a breath and decided to risk it. "Uh, shake his hand?"

Tucker took another pause before he breaking into a laughing fit. Sam's face reddened. It was a good thing they were talking on the phone for she was sure Tucker would figure everything out and would see her blushing madly.

"Seriously, -" He panted, "Sam-" He breathed and started to laugh again. "Hahaha! S-Sam, sorry but, hahaha! You-you're going to shake the hand of a," Tucker tried his best to stop laughing and managed to cough instead. "Ghost?"

Sam gritted her teeth. She felt stupid enough to ask him about this and she felt more ridiculous with him laughing right out at her. "Thank you very much for laughing. Glad I could be your personal clown in times of dire need."

Tucker cleared his throat again. "Sorry, Sam. I didn'—"

Sam hung up. That went great. Now how was she supposed to start telling Tucker about the things she was encountering lately? Not to mention the dreams? When she came home from school this afternoon she fell asleep on the couch and that stupid dream with the naked guy on the gurney haunted her again. She woke up with a heart that felt like it was going to burst and was covered with sweat. To shake off the remnants of the dream and the weird things she thought were coming to her, Sam jumped to the shower and stayed there for half an hour. She was half worried that taking a nap again would bring back the dream.

Sam sighed and wiped at her tired eyes. She felt good after she had dinner but she was so not repeating the skipping-lunch and running into a ghost episode. Her throbbing headache had vanished with the remedy of food, nap and shower but it was starting to come back with a vengeance. It must be her consistent use of the computer. Sam let out another sigh and saved her work. She grabbed her bag pack from the bedside table and stuck her hand inside. She groped through her stuff, searching around for her favorite, tiny tube of a lipstick. It was a crazy habit but it kind of helped. Applying her lipstick whenever she was upset made her feel a bit better. If only she could find that lipstick and—

Sam stopped and decided to take the shortcut. She pulled out her hand and clutched the bottom of her bag. With a jerk, she turned the bag upside down and let the contents piled up on her bed. Sam then began filtering through her stuff. She set aside the black binder for her school notes, the purple and black moleskin journal, the variety of pens and her purple sharpie, her purple umbrella, her amethyst, semi-transparent tumbler and the crumpled papers. Sam's brows nearly collided with each other when she realized that it was missing.

Her hand brushed again with the items but it wasn't there. Sam yanked on her bag and dug through its secret pockets. Nope, not there either. After a few more minutes of worthless searching she finally accepted the fact.

Her favorite purple lipstick was missing. And the last time she remembered having it was when she met the Phantom ghost guy.

Oh, crap. Ghosts were not just bathroom dwelling beings. They were also lipstick-thieves.

* * *

_**A/n: **Thanks for reading! And another round of thanks goes to IceQueenandFireQueen, Thedarkgirl1121, and Lightning Streak for the reviews.  
_

_Comments, suggestions, or violent reactions? Feel free to review._

_~T.E _


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